CHAPTER 3 — The Rules We Didn't Write

They met at a quiet restaurant. Emma was seated beside Ace; she was upright, with her hands neatly placed on the table.

Linus Dante, Read the terms line by line, voice dry and neutral.

“No intimacy. No public acknowledgement. One-year limit,” he said, pausing after each one.

Emma didn’t move. She just nodded slowly, lips pressed tight.

“If either party leaks the arrangement or breaks the agreement, there will be legal consequences.”

Emma still didn’t say anything. She was listening, maybe even holding her breath. Ace glanced at her, but her face gave away nothing.

“I want one more clause,” Ace said, cutting in.

Linus raised an eyebrow. Emma finally looked up.

Ace leaned back in his chair. “No interference in each other’s personal lives.”

Emma blinked once. “Meaning?”

“Meaning if you date someone, or I do, we don’t get to have opinions about it.”

There was a pause. It lasted a second too long.

“Fine,” Emma said, voice low. “Add it.”

She didn’t argue, but her eyes dropped for the first time. Maybe it hurt a little. Maybe it didn’t.

They signed. It was done.

“ I will file these and get the marriage Certificate across to you guys.”

The next day Emma moved into one of the suites in Ace’s penthouse. It was on the opposite side of his floor. The place looked clean and bare. No photos. No clutter. Just minimal interior decor.

She unpacked silently. She brought only a single box from her previous apartment. Not long after, she dozed off on her new bed.

The following morning, Emma got to the office sooner than typical. Everywhere was calm and quiet; it was very cold. She was unbothered. She needed the quietness.

A merger case was on her desk that required urgent attention. But her mind was tired. And every time she tried to focus, her thoughts slid sideways, toward the contract, the penthouse, and Ace’s face across that restaurant table.

So she buried herself in the work. She went through files with sharp attention, flagged inconsistencies, and drafted responses until her eyes began to burn. Time passed in long, quiet stretches. She didn't leave her table except for coffee. The building had gone quiet again, with only the cleaning staff moving around, and Lola, the last person who ever left on time, was still nearby, typing something out at her own station.

Eventually, Lola wandered into Emma’s office, holding her own mug and looking more curious than tired. She leaned her hip against the edge of Emma’s desk and watched her finish typing.

"You’ve been here since sunrise," Lola said after a moment.

Emma did not raise her head immediately. She completed the paragraph she was writing, then finally leaned back, massaging her eyes.

“It’s this company merger case.”

Lola nodded slowly. She appeared to lack conviction. Her gaze remained on Emma’s face, as if attempting to understand hidden meanings.

A few seconds later, Emma shut her laptop. “I moved in with Ace,” she stated.

That captured Lola's complete focus. “What did you say? You moved into Ace’s house?”

Emma gave a single nod.

Lola remained silent initially. She moved around the desk and took a seat in one of the guest chairs facing her, continuing to observe Emma intently

Emma remained silent. She did not provide an explanation. There really wasn’t a lot to clarify regardless. It was completed.

"It’s only business. Trust me."

Lola leaned her head to the side, without a smile. "I don’t think i can trust you at this moment."

Emma grabbed a pen and lightly tapped it on her notepad. "It’s an agreement." Twelve months. Unambiguous guidelines. “Nothing difficult.”

Yet it already seemed complicated.

"You can't keep this simple with someone like him," Lola said with concern.

Emma remained silent.

"What are the conditions?" Finally, Lola inquired.

Emma informed her. Every element. She stated everything: no closeness, no public declarations, no intrusion into one another’s private lives. Everything is enclosed in legal terminology, tidy on the document.

Then she leaned forward. “This is going to explode.”

Emma gave a small nod, tired but certain. “Maybe.”

She looked down at the contract folder tucked inside her bag. It hadn’t left her side since the signing.

“I don’t need it to work forever,” she said quietly. “I just need it to work for now.”

Lola sat back, arms crossed, concern written across her face. But she didn’t argue anymore.

The room felt a little colder. Or maybe it was Emma.

Despite all her reasoning and meticulous preparation, she sensed a change occurring. She was attempting to remain calm, to maintain control.

Yet she was aware. The contract they had documented wouldn’t shield them from what hadn’t been recorded whatsoever.

—------------

A couple of days later, it turned out to be one of those nights that initially seemed like nothing. The city was slowing down, yet not in slumber. Ace had called him after work and said he needed a drink. No details. Only a quiet, tired voice that made Brian say, “I’ll be there in twenty.”

They ended up at a quiet bar tucked between office buildings. They always sat at the back, where nobody listened. Ace was already on his second drink when Brian arrived.

There was a pause before anyone spoke. Brian didn’t push; he never did. He waited, watching Ace’s jaw tighten with every slow sip.

Finally, Ace told him. Not all at once. Just the big pieces, laid out like facts: It was a marriage contract. One year. No romance. No headlines. Nothing real. Brian didn’t speak at first; he stared at his glass like maybe the right words could be found in it.

Brian could see it, even if Ace didn’t say it. He saw the tension behind his calm. The way his hands wouldn’t stay still. The way he avoided using Emma’s name, like it might drag something real to the surface.

“You think you can box this up?” Brian finally said. “Keep it under control? But this isn’t a deal. It’s a person.”

Ace didn’t look at him.

“And people aren’t quiet,” Brian added.

Still, Ace didn’t speak.

Because he already knew.

That was the thing with Ace; he always knew where the lines were. But knowing didn’t stop you from crossing them. Not when it came to her.

Not when it was Emma Ocean.